


Couldn't just leave you behind

by Minkey222



Series: Peter Parker is young, dumb and reckless (and also in constant pain) [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Fighting in New york, Hiding Injury, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, blatant abuse of brackets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: “No. Absolutely not.”The fight was noisy and messy behind them. Peter had overheard news of an attack tearing up the streets so he snuck out of class and ran all the way here, pulling on the suit as he went. Apparently, some new kid off of the streets of Queens had decided that they needed to leave a mark on the city and just had to do that through the use of some kind of spiky, destructive robots.“Go home, Peter.”





	Couldn't just leave you behind

**Author's Note:**

> You guys wanted more so technically this is all of your faults. YIKES. This is going to some dark places. The next chapter is the last one before the fluff and comfort comes about (it gets really bad, Y'all) OOF. I'm really sorry boysies. 
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy and please comment (the more you comment the faster ill write the last of the angst and then we can get to the cute family bonding (hopefully ;))

“No.  _ Absolutely _ not.”  

 

The fight was noisy and messy behind them. Peter had overheard news of an attack tearing up the streets so he snuck out of class and ran all the way here, pulling on the suit as he went (Peter is pretending that lately he hasn’t been wearing the suit underneath his clothes constantly (he’s pretending that it’s not the only way he knows how to get the tingling on the back of his neck to stop  (he’s pretending that he doesn’t know why he feels this way))). Apparently, some new kid off of the streets of Queens had decided that they needed to leave a mark on the city and just had to do that through the use of some kind of spiky, destructive robots (never original, Peter’s disappointed). The destruction was large, cars being thrown about like they weighed nothing (Peter’s pretty sure he could do that (he’s too scared to try (scared to find out he’s not human anymore))) and roads were being upturned. There were several craters in the ground as well as in walls and buildings, broken glass was shattered across the street from the windows of shops and cars alike. Peter arrived as the fight was getting juicy and was about to join the fray when the noise of repulsors had stopped him in his tracks. He turned around to face the Iron man suit as the mask slipped up and away to reveal Mr Stark’s unimpressed face. Peter opened his mouth to defend himself but everything he had to say was washed away with the look that he gave him.

 

“Go home, Peter.”

 

“Oh come on! I can help,” He defended himself fiercely as he hopped from one foot to the other as he itches to get in and kick some robot butt (some ‘robutt’ if you will (God, he’s such a nerd)). Mr Stark still looks unimpressed. Something behind them explodes and he hears the others jump to retaliate and protect any civilians still wandering the street (gotta love New York, the locals are so unfazed by it all) and he looks to Mr Stark with a pleading look (of course, his mask is still on but that’s irrelevant) but he stays unfazed.

 

“No, and that’s final. Leave it to the big kids and go back to school.”

 

“School’s basically over,” God, he can’t believe that he’s being lectured about school by Ironman in the middle of a fight. This was so embarrassing (he was so glad that Flash wasn’t here right now ‘cause as soon as he got over being star-struck (Stark-struck) he would laugh at the loser Peter actually is and he would lose all credibility that Spider-man actually had).

 

“Then go home,”

 

“But I can help here,” Peter hated how whiny he sounded but he just  _ had _ to go and help. He couldn’t sit somewhere in a safe room and listen to the fight on the news. He couldn't just ignore what was happening around him when he was able to help (then it would be his fault (he can’t let anyone else get hurt (not anymore))).

 

“Look, Peter, I know you want to help, but we have it handled, you can sit this one out,”

 

“I can look after myself,”

 

“I’m not saying you can’t, that’s- that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that we have it handled. You being here right now goes against our agreement. No fighting in school time, I won’t have you losing your childhood to ‘Spider-manning’ about,” Tony starts to look impatient with him as he tries to convince him to leave. He feels the ugly head of petulance rears its head deep within him alongside the deep, hollow feeling of guilt that he’s distracting Mr Stark from the battle, that people could get hurt because he’s being a little brat who won’t go home (-always his fault, always his fault-). 

 

“I’m not a child,” Peter completely ignores the fact that that is, in fact, one of the most childish things he has said so far. His bottom lip has even worked its way out into a pout (Peter still has the mask on (he’s pretty sure Mr Stark can tell anyway)) and Tony still looks unimpressed (and a little bit angry (Peter always messes everything up). 

 

“Right now you’re acting like one. I gave you the suit back under the impression you would be part of the team and to be part of the team you have to listen to your team leader, aka me. Right now, as your  _ team leader _ , I am telling you to sit this one out.” His tone leaves no room for argument but still,  _ still  _ (Peter needs to learn to keep his mouth shut), Peter continues to argue, the white heat of shame and indignity burning down his spine.

 

“But- But-”

 

“No buts. Do I need to get someone to escort you home?” And of all the things said that kinda hurts the most. He’s not a kid- he’s Spider-man for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t need someone to babysit him to make sure that he doesn’t jump back into the fight (he needs to fight (he can hear the screams from here (all those people, it’s his fault they’re hurt))). Realising that the fight with Tony is over he hangs his head a little as he shakes it in response.

 

“No, Mr Stark,” Tony has the galls to actually look a little smug as he looks at him and then-  _ And Then _ , he does the unthinkable- Tony reaches a hand out and as gently as one can with a clunky metal gauntlet attached to your hand, he  _ pats his head _ . No jokes, he fucking pats his head like he’s a fucking dog (Peter is burning in a rage) as he says-

 

“That’s a good Spider-man,”

 

-No  _ fucking _ way. The tone of voice is so condescending it makes pure rage bubble up in him and if Peter ever needed a reminder, the interaction only placed a barrier between him and the rest of the group. He’s just the baby, he can’t do anything to help anyone ‘cause he’s so vulnerable and unprotected and useless and worthless- He can hear them all now as they all sit around patching up and healing after the fight, as they all laugh over something stupid someone did, he can hear Tony’s voice as he goes  _ ‘oh, you should have seen the look on his face. Priceless.’ _ and he can hear a response of  _ ‘why do we even let ickle Peter Parker on the team? He just ruins everything’ _ , and another response  _ ‘Yeah, just think of all the people he let get hurt today. Just think of all the people he couldn’t save,’  _ and _ ‘Just think about how useless he is’, ‘How worthless he is’, ‘We should just kick him off the team’- _

 

Peter is so, so appreciative of everything that Mr Stark has done for him, everything that he has provided, don’t get him wrong, but Peter can’t prevent the rage that he feels rising up in him. He is so angry, _so_ angry with him that this feeling is foreign to him. He’s so angry as he walks away from the fight (think of how many people are gonna get hurt because he’s not there (because he’s not good enough (how many people is he going to have to atone for?))). His head is buzzing and his eyes won't focus and his breathing is just a little too quick that he has Karen talking in his ear, telling his that he appears to be distressed (he’s always distressed now-a-days, no biggie (always has been since Jake, Flash, Ben, Skip-)). He would go against Mr Stark’s wishes but he knows that since he got the suit back that the baby monitor protocol has been reinstalled (something he hasn’t had time to remove again (he can’t be trusted)) so he knows, just knows that if he even considers turning back around and joining the fray someone will come and stop him and escort him home. Peter doesn’t want to add insult to injury so he just continues on his path to someone where he can safely swing home from, actively trying to block out the noises of the fight-

 

The ringing noise of his spidey senses are overwhelming sometimes and he guesses it’s a blessing and a curse. Whipping his head around to try and find the source of the problem Peter hears a childish voice call out, completely stopping him in his tracks.

 

“Spider-Man help!” the voice is strong but struggling to fight over the loud clunking noise of buildings being torn down and the grinding metal gears of the robots as they surround the two prone figures. From what he can see from here he can discern two people, one adult and one child, completely surrounded by approaching robots, so much larger than the pair, threatening to attack. The adult holds the child close in their arms, angling them away from the attackers but finding it difficult. The child wriggles and shakes in fear, anger, determination as it shouts at the large machines. The scene strikes Peter- something too near and close to his heart is making it even harder to breathe, as the anger he held before begins to dribble and melt its way into something more soft and scared. He wouldn’t leave these people to their fate regardless of what Mr Stark says but as the shouts continues to come, an infant calling for Peter to save him, he finally realises who is in danger’s way.

 

“Travis?” Peter shouts out as he runs, full speed in their direction, dodging and weaving the debris on the street. In reality they’re not that far away but to Peter they’re too far, too far as the machines close in, threatening and looming over the pair. Travis perks up as he hears his name called and manages to see him past the sea of robots and resumes calling out to him,

 

“Spider-man, over here!” He waves his arms and wriggles in his Grandmother’s grip, trying to lead Peter to him like a landing light. Peter can’t let anything happen to this boy, not now, not never. He already let him get hurt once (it’s not your fault, Peter’s mind tells him, you didn’t know what would happen (it’s always his fault though)) he won’t be able to live with himself if he lets him get hurt again. There has to be at least 10 robots surrounding them. The machines were on the smaller side of the ones he had seen attack the city but they were still larger than him, their bodies covered in spikes and their (arms? Limbs?) arms were sharp metal talons (they reminded him of a praying mantis (what is it with the bug fascination? (says the boy who’s dressed like a spider))). There were too many for him to take on alone but he couldn’t ask for help, if he did they’d send him home again but that would leave too much time in the middle for Travis to get skewered whilst he waited on the sidelines for someone else to arrive. He ignores Karen reminding him that he was told to go home as he runs and webs himself up to a higher vantage point and then swings right down into the middle of the robots. Webbing one in face as he swings past, pulling it in his direction, he causes a chain reaction as it falls back into another one. Whoever designed these didn’t do a great job on balance as the weight distribution clearly wasn’t well thought out. Three fall over- but what they lack in balance Peter guesses they make up for in deadliness. The three that fall don’t get back up but Peter webs them down regardless when his spider senses flare up again, warning him a split second before another robot swings at him. He manages to jump out of the way but now the rest of them are focused on him and not Travis, which Peter guesses is a good thing (better him that the innocent) except for the fact that he now has 7-ish robots on his tail and no idea what to do. There’s not much he can do since he’s confined in the space of this one road, one end is the rest of the fight and he knows that the second that he gets even remotely close to it he’ll be tracked down and escorted home and at the other end is a large area where the civilians are gathered- makes sense since he is on the very outskirts of the fight and there is only so far civilians can run. So as much as he’d love to lead the very angry, very dangerous robots away from Travis and his grandmother, he’s really stuck to what he can do and he doesn’t want to signal to them to run since that could stick the target back on them, the civilians and not him, the hero whose job it is to fight the monsters. He really can’t let Travis down again (not when he’s looking at him like that, all wide eyes and innocent awe as he slings himself around trying to lead the danger away). 

 

Continuing to swing around in somewhat of a circle, Peter’s senses flare sporadically as he weaves and dodges his way out of the path of swinging talons, trying to avoid getting skewered as he tried to form a plan. His mind travels faster and faster trying to work out how to take down these robots before they injure anyone else. He tries to bring together all the knowledge that he knows about them but it really isn’t a lot; one, the robots have very little balance and two, once they fall over they don’t get up. Really, the easiest thing to do would to just web them all in the face and hope they all fall down as well- this certainly would be a credible plan if there weren’t so darn many of them, Peter is more preoccupied with not becoming a Spider-Man kebab. Plus there is the added problem of Travis and his grandmother in the street, stranded in on the sidewalk, unable to move much without drawing any of the robots back to them. Peter guesses he has an advantage right in that moment that the robots are moving as a pack but he doesn’t know what he’ll do if they decide to split up and go after them too (Peter can’t let them get hurt (won’t fail them again)). 

 

Yeah, Peter’s really stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

 

Deciding to just bite the bullet, Peter angles his body upward on the upswing of his web and lands on the somewhat lowered roof of a corner shop. What used to be several stories tall, the building has crumbled and now stands a little over one story, not much height on the robots but it should give his some sight advantage over them and maybe even some time as he landed about 20 meters away from the front robot. They all still have their eyes on him, thank God, so he doesn’t need to worry so much about Travis, so taking aim, he lifts his arm and shoots a web straight, into the faceplate of the first machine.

 

Nothing happens.

 

The robots are somewhat slow, but the pace is constant and they don’t even stop when Peter aims and fires at them. Peter tries again but it yields the same results. Shit. He’s not close enough for the web to have enough velocity to bowl them over. SHIT. Okay, new plan. They need to be closer, but then that puts him in range of being skewered again and that’s no good. He could get closer to them on the ground, but that means he loses the advantage of being face height so he’d have to be even closer and that’s even worse. He could aim for the feet and web them to the ground but there’s no guarantee it would work and even if it did work there’s no way of knowing which way they would fall which could mean he may avoid being stabbed only to be crushed by a heavy, stupid robot. Plus it could put Travis in danger as the action would be closer. Really he had no choice. He has to wait. They have to come to him. 

 

He keeps his aim and waits. 5 meters closer, he fires, not even a wobble. Another 5, he fires again and it’s starting to get ridiculous. The robot he keeps aiming for is starting to accumulate a thick layer of his webbing over it’s head. Yet another 5 meters closer, he fires again and Peter’s starting to sweat. The robot stumbles but doesn’t fall. His senses are screaming in his head, making it harder to aim properly, yet, at the same time, focusing him so much that he’s certain he could never miss. The robots get closer yet,  they’re nearly face to face now, only a couple meters between, Peter takes aim and the robot stops, teeters on its feet. Peter holds his breath.

 

It doesn’t fall.

 

They’re now close enough that the talons can reach him. He’s made a mistake. There’s nowhere near enough that he can web to make a hasty retreat; Peter’s screwed (he messed up (he always messes up)). The machines take a moment to realise that they have an opening and the front one raises it’s talon to attack.

 

The metal is as sharp as it looks. Slicing through layers of fabric, wiring, flesh and muscle, the arm cuts cleanly through his side just as he hears a repulsor firing up. The talon retreats before it can pass through to the other side of his body. Looking forwards, where the faceplace use to be there is now a cavernous hole, allowing Peter to see through and observe the severed and sparking wires. The talon slides out of him neatly and clean, the skin closing up so that the bleeding wound is hardly perceptible, the hole in his suit barely there. The cut is paper thin but deep, almost going the entire way through his body. He doesn’t think it hit anything vital, his spider senses finally calm since he heard about the fight (he hates to imagine that this could have been Travis if he hadn’t arrived (at least it’s him who’s hurt (he’s not human anyway))). He hears the repulsor fire several more times behind him and the clang of the metal hitting the asphalt on the ground below. He can feel the cut sluggishly bleeding (he’s glad his suit is red). The street goes quiet. The dust settles. The repulsors shut off and Mr Stark stands behinds him. He turns to face him, expecting to be faced with the suit, but he’s out of the suit. He doesn’t feel well. Mr Stark’s face doesn’t bode well. Peter guesses he doesn’t look like he’s just been run through. Peter thinks he’s in shock (Karen suggests that he’s in shock). 

 

“I told you to go home,” Tony’s scowling. That can’t mean well to him. Peter doesn’t speak, only ducks his head (trying to take the weight off of his left side). 

 

“Kid, I can’t have you running about, disobeying orders. You could have gotten hurt. You could have gotten someone else hurt. These robots don’t just go down, they need to be destroyed and what are you armed with, huh? Your webs? They wont do anything, don’t do anything against them.” Peter knows this (he’s a failure (he’s always been a failure)), he knows he should have listened but he couldn’t let Travis get hurt. Travis. Looking over to where he was being held by his grandmother when the robots attacked there is now an empty space where they had fled the scene, herded by the police on the edges of the fight to safety. Peter’s glad they’re safe (he’s not sure what he would have done if they weren’t).

 

“Peter,” Mr Stark’s voice is low, he’s looking him in the eye now, hand on his shoulder, not calmly this time. His grip is tight and demanding his attention. It doesn’t hurt (he would never hurt him) but it’s certainly not kind (all people seem to be doing now a days is demand his attention (all he can think of is the bruise that Flash left (that Skip left))), “I need to know that your head is in the game. I won’t let you get hurt because you don’t listen to orders. Peter, I need you to understand me and to listen to me. Otherwise, something bad will happen.” Peter doesn’t know what to say. 

 

“Peter, you’re off the team,” his head snaps up, Mr Stark’s face is stern but strained, his eyes swimming with a mixture of guilt, fear and worry. His fingertips dig into his shoulders. “Not permanently, just for a few weeks. Until you’ve learnt your lesson. I’m not going to take the suit but you’re not to go out on patrol at all until I’ve decided that I can trust you, not in your suit or those pyjamas which are a mockery of the suit I made you. Not at all, you hear me?” Peter’s mouth is dry and gummy. He can’t find the words. His head hurts a lot. He’s a bit dizzy to be honest. He nods (it doesn’t help the dizziness). Mr Starks grip loosens but doesn’t leave his shoulder.

 

“You’re a good kid, Peter. I don’t want this whole thing to hurt you like it hurts all the other superheroes. You have a good life, a childhood, friends, family. You have a great spirit, I don’t want to see that broken,” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more but he decides against it, shutting his mouth and shaking his head. “See you ‘round, Spider-man.” Peter’s head is still bowed when he hears the suit closing around Tony, as he flies away from him, leaving him in a bubble of despair. When he can no longer hear the suit anymore he finally takes the liberty to grasp his hand to his burning side. He gently touches the would with tender fingers and brings his hands away covered in blood. He needs to clean this before it can get any worse. 

 

Gently sliding down the rubble of the dilapidated building he stumbles a few paces in the street before swinging home. Every arch agitates his wounded side and he’s scared that he’s making it worse (he had to stop on a roof to try to web it up as the bleeding got heavier, but it only does so much to help). Aunt May is at work, he hopes she is safe. Usually the fear that she’s not okay would burn and bubble inside him until he couldn’t bare it at all, but any feeling inside of him is dull and groggy and distorted by the pain. He pulls the mask off, followed by the suit allowing him to get a better view of his battered body. His side is completely covered in blood but the cut is thin and long. He’s not actually sure how to treat this. Sure he’s been hurt before- on patrol, at school, in the streets (at home), but never has he been injured this badly without help. His head pounds in time to the throbbing in his side. Peter stands still in his bathroom. A single drop of blood splashes on the tiles. The red is stark against the white. 

 

He could call Tony for help. He probably should at this point but he doesn’t because it’s a bad idea. He would lose the suit for longer, he supposes it would only support Mr Stark’s idea that Peter is incapable (he’s lucky he only loses the privilege for 2 weeks (still too long (what if someone gets hurt))). He takes a deep breath in. No, he has to deal with this like a mature adult person. Trying to wind his mind back to those first aid classes he took earlier in the year Peter realises he needs to clean the cut and apply pressure. Certainly it’s a help to have his advanced healing but the cut isn’t closed yet like he would have expected. Peter’s certain it’s because the cut is like  _ super _ deep (Peter’s pretending like he isn't terrified that it’s something else (what if he’s dying (would that really be that bad-))). Thinking hard Peter remembers the pretty fleshed out first aid kit aunt May has in her room that she got from work. It would be so helpful if May was here since she’s a nurse and all but he knows that she wouldn’t stop fussing over him (he’s sure she would make him call Mr Stark). He tries his hardest to not get any blood on the floor as he retrieves the box. 

 

Rooting through the kit he finds a cleaning wipe and swabs the area around the cut, delicately dabbing at the weeping slit. Then, grabbing a cotton patch Peter presses it directly on top, the sudden tender feeling causing him to grit his teeth. Swallowing a grunt of discomfort Peter grabs a roll of bandage, tears it open with his teeth and maneuvers it until it’s wrapping around his waist, holding the patch in place. The jostling and struggling to get it secure causes him to break out in a cold sweat. Peter is ridiculously tired. His eyes are dropping. His arms are shaking now that the adrenaline has worn of. Peter remembers he hasn’t slept in a long time (Peter remembers the dreams that keep him awake all night). Peter needs to go to sleep. 

 

Trudging back to his room, remembering to stop and wipe the blood off of the floor in the bathroom, Peter simply wants to crawl into bed, lick his wounds and sleep but he can’t, not yet. Grabbing the suit from the crumpled heap he left it in he smooths it out on his bed, observing the damage being stabbed caused. The hole is a neat straight line and should be easy enough to fix. He sighs. He folds it precisely, placing the mask on top and puts it in a box in his closet. He won’t be needing that for a while (Peter can’t believe that he’s off the team (Peter knows he’s a failure (He shouldn’t be allowed to be Spider-man anymore))). Shaking his head and holding his tender side Peter gently slips into bed, the warm cocoon enveloping him and he slowly drifts off to sleep for the first time in days.

 

The next morning Peter hopes the cut is healed (it’s not (he should be more concerned (he’s not simply because he’s not much of anything at all))).

 


End file.
